Orioke Battle!
by silksponge
Summary: It was a matter of pride.A matter of respect.It devolved into rampant fan-service.A battle between Konohamaru and Naruto pulls in everyone in it's path.


A story I started after being inspired by Antimatter. I'm hoping posting will press me into writing some more.

Disclaimer: I hereby state in full and totally not false truth, that I do NOT own Naruto.

"This is dangerous Konohamaru," the voice was patient and measured. "There's no shame in calling this off. I got years more experience; I won't hold this over you."

The boy stared heatedly at his companion, and gestured to himself with his thumb. He spoke evenly and with passion, "That may be true Oyabun, but I haven't been slacking. I've worked on perfecting my technique and I won't back down. This is just one more step to proving myself worthy of being Hokage!"

Blue eyes met brown and held their gaze. He had grown, stronger as well as taller, and it was clear he'd taken his from lesson to heart even after all this time. But he was still a lot of hot air sometimes. "I'm sure you've got some practice in every once in a while…" he started to say before…

"Everyday," Konohamaru interrupted.

"What?"

"Morning, afternoon and evening Oyabun," he answered.

Naruto tilted his head. He was sure he'd missed it so…

"What?"

The grin that split the brown-haired boy's face gave him pause-and a swell of pride. "Since you left, if team practice let me, I've practiced everyday," he looked away embarrassed, "You know, as a kind of homage, he he he." His face set itself and he got fierce, "I'm not to be underestimated!"

He had to admire that, and he was touched, the kid would keep his reputation alive. There was nothing left to it.

"Lets do this then, Konohamaru!" he challenged and turned in his seat to slam the counter with both hands.

"YEAH, you're on!"

"Ayame-neechan, a bowl of miso for each of us and keep 'em coming!" the two contestants sat with chopsticks held high and a confident stare at the other.

Ayame rolled up her sleeves and got ready, her father prepping the next six bowls for each boy. "Two bowls of miso coming up!" she replied.

/

It was a massacre of the highest degree! Pound after pound of noodles and gallons of broth all ingested with prejudice.

'Heh, he wasn't kidding' thought the blond. His eyes were trained on the bowl shielding his face; it wouldn't do to leave any thing behind. Even with his focus set on the bowl in his hand and the one on the counter he registered the blurred forearm of his competitor 'wasteful motion' still keeping pace. Naruto was far from done and Konohamaru seemed like he could keep going.

So they ate and as the noodles vanished Ichiraku Teuchi never smiled so wide.

And then it was over. The victor was clear.

"You did good 'Maru, you were a worthy rival," the blond spoke kindly. It seemed patronizing with him –still- eating! He continued, "Thirty-seven bowls is damn impressive. You should be happy, proud! I know old man Ichiraku is, that's for damn sure!"

"Ugh," not the most intelligent reply, but anything else would have him flooding the stand's floor with noodle mash. He had slid off the stool on bowl thirty-one, and still kept slurping!

Minutes passed with the only sounds being gobbled ramen and gurgling belches.

It didn't seem like anything else was forth coming and the undisputed champion-a total of fifty-seven bowls at this point-gave his thanks and paid for the downed boy's meal-Konohamaru would cover his tab!-and walked out through the billowing curtain. It was very dramatic.

/

He walked through the village and as wrong as it rubbed him, he sulked. He did good, hell he did great. But he beat him by twenty bowls!

"And that's because he chose to stop!"

His fists were clenched at his sides as he yelled-only little kids screamed-out the injustice of their skill gap. His anger vented for the moment he noticed the attention his outburst had garnered and he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head. The villagers continued to watch the honorable grandson for his next move. He quickly walked-waddled, he had eaten a lot of ramen-to the training grounds. He had to plan.

/

He sat quietly; meditating on his chakra as the ambient sounds of training ground nineteen relaxed him. The previous day had brought forth no brilliant plan after an entire evening of brainstorming, but there was something.

/Flashback/

He had left the training grounds with a heavy heart and still heavy belly to his home, hoping a good nights rest would bring answers. It was routine that brought him to Ichiraku's for dinner and sheer force of will and determination that kept him there for six whole bowls-pork- he wouldn't get better without practice.

It was late and he turned in his stool and he saw the faces of the past and current Hokage by the light of the moon and the soft orange glow of the street lights. Orange and the Hokage faces, it niggled at something in his mind. He twisted his stool and faced the counter once more. The pretty ramen waitress was lifting a crate onto a shelf that was a little to high, she was unbalanced on her toes while trying to set it. The task done, just barely, left her bereft of the weight that kept her planted. She fell.

But, oh did she fall! A twist to keep her feet under her only helped to face her front to the counter. With an 'oomph' she hit the floor and oh my! He was the last customer and she loosened her uniform to change quickly once he was done. Now she sat on the floor her hands supporting her from behind, her uniform falling to leave her shoulder bare and a kind expanse of cleavage. Her legs bent and touching at the knees while the length of the fabric pooled on her hips and behind her. There was panty.

His face grew hot and he turned away to hide his blush and spare her the embarrassment, but not before he saw her face sporting a cute pout and fluttering lashes. The image brought back that niggling feeling and after asking of her condition and paying for his meal he continued on his way. He needed the sleep if he was going to make anything out of this.

/Flashback End/

So he sat there, back against the log that served as the ground's training post. The impression left by orange, Hokage faces and a cute girl in a sexy pose. The answer was right there! It was on the tip of his tongue and his mind had all the letters but couldn't put them together. He conceded that Naruto would be the Rokudaime Hokage. He had grown strong but Naruto had a leg up on him that only time could make-up. That ruled out a competition of strength. His goal in the ramen contest was to exceed in another area that Naruto championed. Just like he picked up pranks to…

That was it. All the pieces came together.

If Naruto was known for being unpredictable, nothing proved it better than his pranks. Before and after becoming a ninja his skills in mischief defined him. He had pulled great pranks, and while his most well-known work involved the Hokage Monument, his greatest work was without a doubt less publicized. Totally original, all of his own creation and its effects feared enough to be kept a secret by it's victims for fear of shame.

"Orioke no Jutsu, he he he," the plotting boy whispered.

/

AN: And there it is. C&C welcome.


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